


Mating Season

by odd_stick (KrakenAntlers)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Animalistic Behavior, Don’t copy to another site, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mech Preg, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Out of Character, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 23:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17476991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrakenAntlers/pseuds/odd_stick
Summary: Animal instincts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **ORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN 2010 and posted on both ff.net and LJ**  
> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.  
> Rating: MATURE (Sticky)  
> Pairing: SixShot x Perceptor (G1)  
> Summary: Request fic for LJ@dreamerchaos prompt was "Sixshot/Perceptor; hungry like the wolf"

The problem with organic based beast modes is that the animal’s instincts tend to leak over and flood the mind of the mech. This isn’t usually a problem during battles, but when the too rare lull of peace is upon them there is no easy outlet. So those few unfortunate individuals have to seek their own counsel, unless they are lucky enough to know another mech with a similar beast mode.

Sixshot is unique, being both a six mode changer and having his beast mode a chimera. The winged wolf is both avian and canine, and the conflicting instincts tended to confuse and infuriate the already troubled mech.

When mating season comes around for his beast mode, it is always unpleasant for everyone around him, be they foe or ally. He usually takes the preemptive and removes himself from any other mech’s vicinity simply so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself.

Being in the middle of his embarrassing cycle, Sixshot is currently in his beast mode and flying across the isolated Gobi Desert. He chose this specific area for its vast open spaces and few inhabitants. Unfortunately, he didn’t know that a small group of Autobot scientists and explorers had also chosen that day to study the flora, fauna, and geography of the dangerous land.

Sixshot’s sensitive olfactory sensors pick up just the faintest whiff of the most enticing scent and he changes his course subconsciously. His instincts are honing in on a prospective mate and he is just along for the ride.

 

 

Perceptor is completely engrossed in the fascinating samples he is busily gathering from the surrounding flora. It was simply amazing what kinds of extreme conditions Earth’s varied inhabitants could survive, let alone thrive in. Glad that he decided to come along on the exploratory excursion, he hasn’t noticed how far from the rest of the group he has ventured.

The microscope is alone in the desert save for the animals and plants, and he never even notices the glint of metal high up in sky. The winged beast loops back and begins spiraling down, Perceptor the focus of the descent. The Autobot has just enough time to take note of the Incoming Threat icon flashing angrily at him over his HUD, before one of the largest mech’s he has ever encountered lands heavily in front of him. The sunlight reflects brightly off of the silver body of the mech as the dust settles at his pedes.

Perceptor catches himself gaping, before quickly regaining his senses and turning tail to run back to their ship. He hears the other mech transform behind him and the clinical scientist in him quickly takes note of four feet chasing after him instead of jet engines or the tread of wheels. Pulling up any and all available channels, he sends out a mayday, “Autobot command, this is Perceptor. I’m being pursued by an unknown Decepticon. I repeat—“ The small mech is suddenly tackled from behind and lands hard on his chassis. The impact jars his systems, but not so much that he doesn’t take immediate notice of the sharp fangs biting down on the back of his neck.

The bite is firm, but does not penetrate the delicate cabling. “Caught you,” the mysterious mech growls through the possessive hold.

Nothing happens, and Perceptor can’t help his response. “So you have. What are you going to do now?”

The mech above him transforms, the fanged grip removing itself before being quickly replaced with equally dangerous fingers. The scientist’s confusion at the situation only grows as he feels the other mech nuzzle at the base of his head, air rapidly filtering in and out of the mech’s intakes. “You smell /really/ good.”

“Umm…thank you?” Perceptor can’t stop the sparkling like squeak that escapes him as he is roughly grabbed and spun around so that his back rests in the dirt and sand instead of his face. “Who are you? I can see that you are a Decepticon, so why is it that you have not deactivated me yet?”

The larger mech’s face is still hidden, still snuffling at Perceptor’s neck and under his mandible. “Designation’s Sixshot. Who are you?”

The scientist yelps again as Sixshot traces his sharp denta along the sensitive cables of his neck. “I-I am P-Perceptor. You still haven’t answered my other question, a-and I don’t p-particularly approve of you biting me.”

The silver Decepticon finally lifts his helm far enough away so that their optics can meet. “My beast mode has decided that we are compatible. You are going to be my mate.”

 _‘Oh, is that all?’_ runs through Perceptor’s processor. “M-mate?! But we’ve only just met and you..uh…”

Sixshot shifts his frame, settling in between the Autobot’s thighs which spread further apart to accommodate the bulk. “Doesn’t matter. I recognize you.” The six changer resumes nibbling at the offered neck, Perceptor unaware of the submissive behavior he is exhibiting.

“But we’ve never met. How can you recognize me?” the scientist’s hands have moved to grip Sixshot’s biceps, but he doesn’t struggle. The surreal situation has left his processor grasping at threads and he just doesn’t seem to feel any /fear/ towards this monstrous mech. The entire thing is ridiculous, but he doesn’t even think to resume calling for the other Autobots.

The Decepticon’s hands travel over and explore Perceptor’s chassis, recording the exact placement of every miniscule detail through touch alone. “I don’t recognize your face, name or frame…only your spark. It /calls/ to me.” He shifts his hands down to the smaller mech’s hips and thighs, rubbing soothingly along the plating.

 _‘What am I doing? Am I just going to /let/ this Decepticon have his way with me?’_ Perceptor thinks as he arches up into the larger mech’s caresses. He feels like he’s had too much high grade, warm and happy with a slight buzzing sensation running through his systems. “Sixshot, this…this can not continue,” he says before letting loose a low hum of pleasure as the six changer runs a hand over the scientists’ interface panel. “I really must ask you d-desisssst…and let me go.” Perceptor can’t stop his hands from roaming over the tri-colored mech’s shoulders and strong arms.

He gasps as Sixshot triggers his interface panel open and proceeds to tease his weeping port with his large fingers. The six changer is beyond words, lost to his beast mode’s instincts and pheromones. He is completely under the spell of his mate’s siren song; the smaller mech’s scent, body, and spark controlling his every move. Laving once more at Perceptor’s throat he then makes his way down, nipping and licking as he goes. The sweet gasps that leave his mate spur him on his journey. There’s no hesitation when he removes his hand from the scientist’s port and replaces it with his glossa.

“Aaauuugh!” Perceptor’s hips jump at the new sensation, only Sixshot’s restraining hands keeping him from bucking the Decepticon off. The six changer’s glossa worships him, laving at the opening before diving in and out at an aggravatingly steady pace. All rational thought has fled Perceptor, Sixshot’s affections and the pheromones leaving him drunk and wanton. “Mmmm,” he hums as his hands move down to stroke Sixshot’s helm. “D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” The silver mech obeys his mate’s commands eagerly.

The Autobot scientist is drowning in pleasure and close to overloading when something grabs his attention. It starts out as a quiet drone, but is quickly followed by the loud crack of a warning shot. Perceptor’s hazy vision struggles to focus on the fast approaching form of Trailbreaker. “STOP! Get away from him Decepticon!” Another warning shot is fired and Perceptor can hear Trailbreaker yelling over his external comm unit to all available Autobots to head to his location ASAP.

Perceptor’s mind is slow to focus, but it is easier now that Sixshot has halted his affections. The silver mech is crouched over his mate, growling at the approaching threat. The beast mode recognizes the mech as one of his mate’s tribe and there for not a threat to Perceptor, but he can’t put either of them in danger by engaging in a fire fight at this time. He lunges down for a last claiming kiss before leaping up and transforming mid air. The winged wolf circles the two Autobots twice before letting loose a howl to his mate; the call holding the promise of a reunion. With a last glance at his mate, Sixshot departs, knowing that he will have another chance to claim what is his.

Watching the Decepticon flee, Trailbreaker slows his jog to Perceptor’s side. Once the silver mech is out of sight, the Autobot crouches by the scientist’s side and searches for injuries. “Are you all right Perceptor? I came as soon as I heard your may day? What was he-“

The usually cheerful mech /knows/ that something is seriously wrong when Perceptor interrupts him. “I’m fine Trailbreaker. Thanks for coming to my rescue.” The red and teal mech hides his face behind his hands, shielding the blush from view as he hears more Autobots approach. He desperately hopes that none of them notice as he covertly commands his interface panel to slide closed.


	2. Chapter 2

If any of his companions did take notice of his ravished state, they gracefully held their glossa after Perceptor assured them that he was in fact fine and no the Decepticon had not harmed him. Once back at the Ark, they were debriefed by Prowl, the Datsun eyeing Perceptor curiously as the scientist went over his own version of the events. He glossed over how the Decepticon had appeared out of nowhere and pursued him, demanding information. He said that the mech hadn’t made too much sense and was possible scrambled in the processor.

Finally allowed to retreat to his quarters, Perceptor lay on his berth. _‘Why did I lie? I doubt that Prowl believed me…or the others for that matter. Trailbreaker /must/ have seen what was happening.’_ With an embarrassed groan, his hands cover his face, pressing into his optics. He wasn’t stainless, but he didn’t necessarily like to flaunt his private activities with others. Not to mention that he had been accosted by one of the enemy and /liked/ it. _‘Why didn’t I fight back? I could have done /something/…called the others sooner…I didn’t even reach for my pistol.’_

Remembering the attack brought back the vivid memories of Sixshot. The mech had been huge and imposing, but had taken great care with not harming Perceptor. The tackle and even the initial bite could have easily deactivated him, but the Decepticon had instead lavished the scientist with adoring touches. None of Perceptor’s partners had /ever/ swept him so completely off his feet with so little effort. _‘He said his beast mode was in heat…maybe the pheromones he was releasing were affecting me…’_ That train of thought didn’t explain why his frame was warming now though. The memory of what Sixshot had done to him and was planning on /doing/ kept running through Perceptor’s processor like a bad line of code. He didn’t stop his hands from running over his own frame, tracing the very same paths that Sixshot had traversed earlier.

 _‘What am I doing? M-maybe he infected me with a virus? I…I should really go see Ratchet…’_ he thinks as one hand palms his interface panel. Perceptor has never really been one for self-servicing, but his thoughts are consumed by the visage of the mysterious six changer. With one hand busy tweaking the sensitive cables of his neck, the other traces the edge of the interface panel until he commands it open with a sigh. His port is already wet with lubricants and his fingers slide in easily.

Alone in his room, Perceptor doesn’t try or even think to mute his heavy intakes or gasping moans. Knees bent and thighs spread, he gyrates his hips in time with his ministrations. His spark throbs in his chest with each thrust of his hand and an image of Sixshot leaps to the forefront of his processor, the mech above him – in him until they are one.

He overloads with a shout, his port and spark fluttering in ecstasy. His vents struggle to cool his overheated systems as he collapses to the berth, limbs trembling with aftershocks. _‘By the Well of the Allsparks…what is happening to me?’_

 

 

Not even a deca-cycle later, Perceptor is on another exploratory mission. Once again he is sifting through sand, but instead of the seemingly endless desert, the sea borders their stretch of the beach. Only Beachcomber, Seaspray, Powerglide, and Warpath have accompanied him on this excursion and he is glad for the privacy they allow him.

Ever since his encounter with Sixshot, his processor has been sluggish and keeps tripping over the simplest things. He had suggested this expedition in an attempt to exercise his mind and dig himself out of his confused slump.

Their group is spread out on the beach, exploring on their own while staying within a reasonable distance of one another. Perceptor has found a particularly fascinating rock formation with faint traces of gold and silver in it. In his microscope mode and completely in his element, he fails to take note of his gradually warming spark. It isn’t until the beast is upon him that he starts in surprise, transforming back to his root mode instantly.

The creature is majestic and unlike any beast mode he has encountered thus far. Though he already knows the answer, he finds himself asking, “Sixshot?”

The winged wolf trots closer, thrusting his muzzle into Perceptor’s slack hand. “Yes,” the six changer replies before swiping his glossa over the upturned palm.

Perceptor rubs his other hand over the wolf’s helm. “It’s very graceful.” The scientist quickly searches the area with his optics, searching for his companions. “What are you doing here?”

The Decepticon transforms into his bipedal mech form. He towers over Perceptor, casting the smaller mech in shadow. “I’ve come for you.”

Perceptor shakes his helm in denial and an ineffectual attempt to clear his muddled thoughts. “Sixshot, this can not continue. I can not and will not be your mate; you must be mistaken.” The teal and red mech slides back, dragging his pedes through the sand as he retreats.

Sixshot moves with him, step for step. “No mistake,” he says as his intakes sample and analyze the surrounding air. “I /know/ you are my mate and there is no other.” The silver and turquoise mech’s arm snaps out like a striking serpent to take hold of Perceptor’s bicep. He pulls the scientist close, and whispers in his audio receptor, “You know it too. I could /feel/ it when you overloaded while thinking of me. I can still smell your desire.” The Decepticon retracts his mask and drops an open mouthed kiss to the cheek of his mate. “This driving instinct has us both enthralled.”

The scientist can’t stop his dermal plating heating up in embarrassment and reluctant desire. “Y-you ‘felt it’?!”

Sixshot chuckles as he moves his attentions to the scope mounted on Perceptor’s opposite shoulder. “Almost like I was there with you. I felt every stroke and plunge of your /very/ talented fingers.” The large mech suddenly nips sharply at the extended lens of the scope, causing a yelp to escape the scientist. “It was a good thing I was the one your were thinking of though. Any one else, and I would have had to discipline you. As mates, I am the only one who is allowed to give you pleasure…though I would rather I be there for the occasion.”

The Decepticon’s hands aren’t truly restraining Perceptor anymore, but the microscope takes little notice. “I…I do not want this. Why can you not just ignore these instincts? You must have before you met me.”

Any reply that Sixshot may have had is quickly forgotten as his helm swings around so that his optics may scan the distant horizon. A deep rumbling growl echoes through his chassis, the vibrations running into Perceptor’s frame as the taller mech holds him closer. “W-what is it?”

The overpowering instinct to protect his mate from the incoming threat blocks Sixshot’s vocoder and he gives no response or reason when he hugs Perceptor to his chest. The Autobot stifles an undignified squeak as they ascend into the air. The beach stretches out below them and he can see the colorful shapes that are his friends. They are too far away for a verbal hail, but he attempts to throw out a distress signal. ‘Help! A Decepticon has captured me and he’s heading—‘ he’s abruptly cut off as Sixshot squeezes him hard enough to strain the plating of his frame.

‘Perceptor, I’m coming!’ comms Powerglide. The red plane leaps into the air, tearing after them. With his focus solely on the Decepticon kidnapping his friend, the red ‘bot never sees the shot coming. He takes a hit right in the belly of his plane mode and veers wildly out of control. Ramjet cackles as he circles his damaged prey.

Perceptor can only watch in horror as the accomplished flier falls to the earth, a spiral of smoke trailing behind him. He sends a frantic call to Beachcomber, Seaspray, and Warpath. ‘By Primus, HELP him!’

‘We will, but what about you?’ Beachcomber replies as he runs to the crashed Autobot’s side. The blue geologist attempts to check the plane’s status while still defending himself from Blitzwing, Thrust and Ramjet. Warpath manages to knock the beige and purple triple changer out of the air momentarily before he is buried in sand.

The fight grows farther and farther away as Sixshot continues flying further inland. ‘Don’t worry about me! Just take care of yourselves for now. I don’t think he’s going to deactivate me…just get out of there and back to the Ark!’

He can’t see them anymore, but he hears the static filled reply of a damaged Seaspray confirming their compliance with his request. The scientist sags in relief as his friends slowly make their escape from the three flying Decepticons, but he knows that he will have no such luck. Sixshot still has him securely in his hold and his silver face is lifted to the wind.

 

 

It’s some time later that Perceptor notices that they are descending, gliding down in a slow, lazy spiral. The area below them is heavily forested and the land itself has formed into towering mountains of craggy stone. The scientist fears that they are going to crash into one of the mountains and tightens his hold on Sixshot. The six changer purrs at the move and expertly guides them to a hidden opening in the side of the rock face.

The Decepticon lands gracefully, but does not release Perceptor, instead shifting his hold so that he may carry his mate like a human would its bride. He is unaware of the human custom he is mimicking as he carries the Autobot over the threshold of the cave before gently settling him onto his pedes.

The red and teal mech studies his surroundings. The cave’s entrance is hard to spot from outside, but the layout of the entrance and a small unseen opening towards the back let’s in enough sunlight that he does not need to shift his optics to their night setting. The entranceway is large enough to allow Sixshot in with only minimal crouching and the first ‘room’ is large enough for several mechs of Bumblebee’s size. The scientist takes note of the adjacent ‘doorways’ that lead into other parts of the cave’s networks, but he does not have the chance to explore as the large Decepticon takes hold of his wrist and pulls him towards the back and into an even larger section.

Perceptor instantly takes note of the pile of stacked energon cubes and other supplies in one corner. “You prepared this?”

The silver mech only nods before pulling the smaller ‘bot into his arms and proceeding to nuzzle at his neck. The six changer is eager to pick up where they left off when so rudely interrupted last time. He still has not had the chance to fully claim his mate, only his scent and energy field traces marking the smaller mech.

Silver digits dance across the red chassis, working at the seams of the armor before gliding down to dip into the crevasses of Perceptor’s hip joints and pelvic region. The microscope gasps, the touches maddeningly arousing and his processor is once again frighteningly conflicted. “Sixshot, please listen. This—,” a swipe of the Decepticon’s glossa along the cables of his neck and the subsequent nip distracts him and his words are lost.

Sixshot’s systems hum with pleasure as his mate tilts his head back to allow the larger mech more access to the vulnerable throat. While distracting the Autobot with tender touches and roaming kisses, he lowers Perceptor to the ground. The large mech settles on top of the scientist comfortably, making sure to distribute his bulk so as not to crush the other. He trails kisses along the mech’s neck and along his jawline, before finally moving to the enticing mouth.

Perceptor’s frame is warming at an alarming rate, his body even resorting to panting in his excitement. When Sixshot kisses him, any form of resistance still clinging to his processor is quickly eradicated. The beast’s pheromones have well and truly taken hold of them both, and neither can find the will power to care. All they see, feel, and /want/ is each other.

The scientist darts his glossa into the silver mech’s open mouth, before retreating back into his own. As planned, Sixshot’s glossa follows and the appendages wrestle and explore one another. Perceptor’s sensitive hands are running over every part of the Decepticon he can reach, before he manages to find the slim vertical wings. The resounding moan that slips past Sixshot’s lips causes the Autobot to shiver in delight and need.

Wanton lust flows across their instinctual bond and electrifies their sparks. The large Decepticon wastes no more time in sating their need. He raises himself up and away from Perceptor, forcibly ignoring the plaintive moue that escapes the smaller mech. Shushing his mech quietly, he skims his palms along spread teal thighs.

The Autobot takes the initiative and commands his interface panel open. Sixshot’s red optics stare hungrily at the weeping port, tempted to taste the ambrosia again, but there is time for that later. He releases his spike, the chill air of the cave making him hiss in anticipation of the waiting warmth of his partner.

Perceptor’s blue optics have shifted to a brilliant cerulean, reflecting to his lust and need. He spreads his thighs wider and curls his lower legs around Sixshot’s hips, trying to pull the Decepticon closer. His dark hands grasp at the larger mech’s shoulders as he begs, “Please….please…,” in a breathless mantra.

Slave to his mate’s demands, Sixshot ends both their suffering when he slips his spike into the waiting valve until he is embedded to the hilt. Shuddering static escapes Perceptor’s vocoder as his frame adjusts to the welcome intrusion. “Ssssssso big…fills me,” he sighs. “M-move.”

“Yes, my Mate,” Sixshot appeases. As he brings his chassis back into contact with Perceptor’s and their lips meet, he rolls his hips. Supporting the smaller mech’s posterior, the Decepticon assists their joining as they move to meet each other for each successive thrust.

As Sixshot glides in and out of him, Perceptor feels as if he is being consumed spark and all, and he cannot resist it. He doesn’t want to. The feverish cloud of desire and need has overwhelmed his processor and he can not even bring himself to be embarrassed with his wanton behavior. He pulls Sixshot closer, wordlessly begging the mech to go /harder/, /faster/. Their denta clack against one another as their frantic movements make their kisses that much more frenzied.

When Perceptor reaches over the silver mech’s shoulders and finds the sensitive wings, Sixshot retaliates by biting down on the main energon line in his neck. The rush of the energon in his mouth pushes Sixshot over the edge, his pace growing erratic as he overloads. With his mate’s essence flooding his port, Perceptor is close in following the Decepticon in overload. His back bows as he keens in pleasure.

Both mech’s are shaking, Sixshot’s hips and spike still riding out the aftershocks and throbbing squeeze of Perceptor’s port. They both recover slowly, vents working hard to cool their systems. The silver mech is still buried deep in his mate as he laves his glossa over the already healing wound he made on Perceptor’s neck. The microscope purrs, the spent pleasure of their coupling and the continuing ministrations making his entire frame relax.

When Sixshot finally pulls himself from the tight port, they both shudder anew, but the completed mating is still too fresh in their systems to attempt another round so soon. Careful of his wings and mate, Sixshot settles on his side and pulls Perceptor close to his chassis.

Sated and comfortably held within the Decepticon’s arms, Perceptor finds himself drifting towards recharge. Neither panic nor regret have any lasting hold on his processor, only the warmth and safety that surrounds him. His optics idly focus on the lines of sunlight quickly shifting their angles and disappearing one by one as the sun sets outside, and as darkness swallows the cave the mated pair slip into recharge together, their sparks pulsing in unison.


	3. Chapter 3

Sixshot is the first to rise out of recharge. He is greeted by the warmth of his still resting Mate partially draped over his chassis and the pleasant glow of early morning sunlight just barely seeping in from the entrance of the cave. Perceptor has an arm and a leg thrown over the six changer while his helm rests comfortable on the turquoise chassis.

The Decepticon’s beast mode is calmer now that his Mate has been claimed, but the passion Perceptor awakens in him has not diminished. In their hurried coupling, Sixshot had not really had the chance to explore the smaller mech’s frame so he takes this time to do so. His optics and fingers trail over the red and teal frame, tracing the seams and dipping into crevasses. Though originally started with a deceptively innocent intent, his motions soon take on a more sensual tone as his hands dip lower.

The interface panel slips open easily at his questing touch and he decides that he now has the leisure to partake of what he had just had a sinful taste of before. Careful digits explore the intimate area while Perceptor sleeps on, only shifting minutely at a particularly pleasurable touch or letting a quiet dream filled gasp escape his pouting lips.

Sixshot repositions the Autobot’s legs so they hang open and rest on his shoulders. Taking hold of his partner’s hips, he dips his helm and sweeps his glossa along the opening of the port. Perceptor squirms deliciously, but does not wake from recharge. The heady scent of their mating last night still clings to the ‘bots port and Sixshot revels in it. He rubs his cheek along the inside of one pale thigh and just lets the proof of his claiming cycle through his vents before he loses patience. Returning to his ministrations, he laves the port again before dipping his glossa within. The flavor overwhelms him and his optics flicker before he is able to gain control of himself.

At a relaxed pace, he leisurely suckles at the port, coaxing it to weep for him. When he feels Perceptor start to ease out of recharge, he doesn’t change his tempo and only hums a greeting when the scientist fully wakes and lets out a long, low moan. The legs over Sixshot’s shoulders flex, tightening and pulling him closer.

Perceptor has never been woken like this, but he’s beginning to think that it should become his new alarm in the mornings. The microscope can’t even form any words he is so comfortably lost in the sensations. He just pulls the six changer closer with his legs and rests his hands on the shifting helm. Now that his Mate is awake, Sixshot feels no quilt in darting his glossa in and out faster, mimicking their earlier joining. He interchanges the rhythm by completely removing himself and simply licking at the outer rims and along the inner thighs before diving back in and seeing how deep his glossa can reach.

The red and teal mech has no need nor want to stall his overload. Simply floating on the rising waves of pleasure, gasping and crying out in response to the intense touches of the talented mech, Perceptor shouts as Sixshot simply holds his hips steady and washes the drenched port with his glossa.

Once the shivering aftershocks have subsided, Sixshot gently guides the limp legs from his shoulders down to rest about his hips. He shuffles forward on his knees; leaning over his Mate’s heaving chassis as the smaller mech tries to cool his systems. The open mouth is pliant under his as they kiss, and there is no fight when Sixshot pushes his glossa into the wet cavern to share the flavor of his exploits.

They finally pull apart with an audible wet pop, and Perceptor is still gasping for air as he smiles and quietly says, “Good morning.”

Sixshot nuzzles at the grey face, liberally spreading kisses wherever his lips land. “It’s about to get better,” he replies. He hands travel from Perceptor’s hips up to his sides and back down, tracing the seams as they go. Commanding his cod piece to open, the pale mech’s spike slips free and briefly tests the air before being buried deep in the welcoming sheath of Perceptor’s port.

The microscope’s helm falls back, his mouth opened wide in a silent scream of pleasure. The port is relaxed, slippery, and perfect from the previous overload and Sixshot takes full advantage. A deep growl resonates through his chassis as he pumps his hips, thrusting into his willing and pliant Mate. This session is not as hectic or rushed as the first time, but both mechs are still too new to one another. The overwhelming sensations do not lend well to lengthy love making.

Already overheated from pleasuring his Mate, it doesn’t take long for Sixshot to overload. With a satisfied smirk, he is proud to note that Perceptor his following him over the brink, the tender walls of his port spasming around his spike as he releases his essence deep within.

Perceptor’s entire frame sags into the floor save for his loose legs still around the Decepticon’s hips. Sixshot braces himself on his elbows and knees, but stays suspended over the smaller mech as he slowly extracts his spike. They stay in that position, both of their vents running to cool their systems. Once his optics are clear and he’s sure his vocoder won’t glitch, Perceptor smiles up at his captor. “Thank you for proving me wrong. I believe it is now a great morning.”

Sixshot laughs as he bends down to lavish his mech with tender nuzzles and wet kisses. After relishing in the affection, Perceptor eventually turns his head to meet the Decepticon’s lips. Before it can go too far, both mech’s tanks let loose hungry gurgles. While Perceptor attempts to cover his giggle, the large silvery mech climbs to his feet grumbling under his breath the entire time as he makes his way to the store of energon cubes he had stashed here earlier.

Even this small distance between the two mechs helps to clear the Autobot’s processor. ‘Vector Sigma, what have I gotten myself into?’ His optics follow Sixshot’s unhurried movements and he simply can not wrap his mind around what has happened. In the Academy, he had briefly heard of beast modes going into heat, but he had never had to deal with it personally. Not much was known about the phase on an academic level, and the more detailed stories he had overheard were from boastful ‘bots in the shared study rooms as they told their friends of their previous night’s activities.

This ‘Mate’ business is outside his understanding and seems a bit…unscientific to him. But, even Perceptor can not deny that something exists between himself and the large Decepticon now. As loathe as he is to admit such a romantic and idealistic notion, he can feel it in his spark. The six changer calls to him, making him feel safe and…happy. Not to mention uncharacteristically physically passionate. It was so strange, what with the horror stories he had heard about Sixshot. The silver and turquoise mech had been intimidating and aggressive in his pursuit of the scientist, but he had only shown great affection and a gentle hand to the weaker and smaller ‘bot.

The scientist’s ruminations are cut short as Sixshot returns to his side with an energon cube in each hand. Perceptor sits up and takes the offered cube, only wincing slightly as the movement reminds him of their earlier activities. The six changer settles next to him, concern peeking out from his stoic face. “What’s wrong?”

The Autobot takes a sip of the bright liquid before answering. “Ah, nothing. I have just not been so…active before or so frequently. I am just a bit sore is all.”

Red optics widen. “Did I hurt you? Tell me.” A dark hand rises as if to touch him, but aborts the movement awkwardly.

“Oh no! Do not worry, you did not hurt me.” Perceptor grabs the same hand that had tried to comfort him. “I promise that I am fine.”

The six changer nods, shifting closer to his Mate but still not touching save for their joined hands. He takes a drink of his own energon before he says, “I believe you, but you must make sure to tell me if I ever hurt you. I…am not a gentle or peaceful creature.” Another sip, but Perceptor realizes that he must not interrupt. “You are the first thing that I have ever felt strongly about, other than battle.”

The scientist is stunned by the admittance, but does not let go of the hand within his. “Sixshot, I still do not completely understand what is happening to us, but I have to admit that I do feel this connection to you. I do not wish to see you hurt either.”

Sixshot has never had such gentle words directed his way. His helm ducks in a rarely seen show of embarrassment and hopes that the warmth in his spark is not a fatal malfunction, but the sensation of happiness making itself known to him. Unable to voice the unfamiliar feelings, Sixshot falls back on what he knows best – actions speak louder than words. He wraps his arms around Perceptor and pulls the mech into his lap. The scientist bites down on a startled chirp as he is forcibly moved, but quickly settles comfortably in the safe hold. He rests his brightly colored arms on top of the silvery white limbs encircling his middle.

Sixshot is done with his energon ration and simply holds his Mate as the red and teal mech finishes his own meal. The two rest in silence, simply relishing in one another’s presence. But even when at peace, Perceptor’s processor never stops. The situation has finally completely caught up with him and he has to ask, “Will this hold on us end when your beast mode’s mating season concludes?”

Knowing he must answer, but fearing the consequences, Sixshot tightens his hold around the Autobot. “The pheromones will reduce back to their normal levels, but…you are my Mate.”

The scientist turns his helm just enough to meet the ruby optics glowing over his shoulder. “And what does that mean exactly? If you return to your regular functionality, how are our relations any different than a mech without a beast mode partnering with someone?”

“When a beast mode finds their Mate, and not just another mech or femme that sates their physical needs, it is very much like finding one’s Intended. We are like Spark-Bonded now, you are mine and I am yours.”

“W-what?” Perceptor wriggles in the tight hold, turning completely in the circle of Sixshot’s arms. His knees rest on either side of the turquoise hips as his hands find support on the armored chassis. “But we have not even revealed our sparks to one another! How can we be Bonded?”

The Decepticon is surprised when he finds that he can not meet the other mech’s optics. “Our sparks called to each other, that’s how I found you in the first place. That’s how I was able to feel what you felt when we were apart. When I claimed you last night, it only secured our connection and should keep any other beast moded mechs from attempting to attack or seduce you.” His large hands tentatively move to support the smaller mech’s backstrut. “We have not physically bonded our sparks yet, but there is not any tangible difference in our relationship now and what it could be if we did so. I know you can feel it too.”

When Sixshot lightly bumps their chassis together, to accentuate his point Perceptor cannot ignore the pleasurable jolt that travels through his spark. “I…I do feel it. This is just so unbelievable! When we get back to the Ark, I will have to ask Ratchet to scan us and then I can study it against my previous stats….this is amazing!”

The scientist’s bright optics and exuberant expression tease a smile onto Sixshot’s lip components, but he knows that he must stop such ideas now. Interrupting the continuing scientific monologue, he says, “I am…glad that you are accepting this so easily, but I can not go to the Autobots.”

Stuttering over his last words, Perceptor is caught off guard. “What? Why not? If I explain what has happened, then they will not harm you!”

“That is something that you can’t promise, my Mate. I’ve been a warrior since I can remember and have been the cause of many Autobot’s injuries and deactivations. I will not be welcome, nor do I want to join their cause. I know only war. The peace they strive for would be my demise.”

The scientist’s hands grasp at the armor and when they find a hold he attempts to shake the larger mech. “That kind of talk is foolish. We have trained warriors on our side as well, but they will learn to adjust once peace has come again. We all will. This War can not define who we are, and not all fighters have to lead a life of destruction.” Perceptor’s optics beseech Sixshot to listen. “There will always be something to protect – to fight for, and everyone is capable of change.”

Sixshot listens to his Mate, but while he understands the words and feelings behind them, he knows that there can be no future outside of war for him. He was built for it and will die from it. “Perceptor…”

Suddenly a loud call over both his comm. link and heard with his audio receivers disrupts any thing that he would have said. “SIXSHOT! Where the frag are you?”

With a sinking sensation in his tanks, the Decepticon realizes that his heat induced absence has dragged on past its excusable duration. Megatron has coming looking for him personally.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This story, like so much of my stuff, is AU (I need to start making that clearer in the summaries). Also, besides the standing warning of STICKY, this is now diving into MechPREG. If it offends or you just don’t like it, please do not leave any ugly comments and simply hit the back button. ^_^

Perceptor recognizes the voice immediately and his fingers grip even tighter to his Mate’s chassis. “Megatron,” he whispers. “What is he doing here? How did he know where to look?”

The six changer holds the Autobot close, protective instincts flaring. With both their optics on the entrance he answers, “I’ve been gone too long. He probably needs me for an upcoming fight.” His battle mask slides back in place as he takes hold of Perceptor and gently removes him from his perch. With the red and teal mech struggling to his own pedes, Sixshot rises to his though he must bow his helm just enough to clear the low ceiling. “He doesn’t know you’re here. I usually come to this forest when I go through my cycles, so he knew where to search.”

Perceptor makes an aborted movement to stop the large six changer as he steps towards the entrance. “Please do not return to him. I…I do not know how I could stand it if you were to face my friends and allies in battle now. If you were hurt…”

The silver and teal Decepticon stops and turns back to his Mate, dismissing the repeated call of his designation from outside. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a one mech army.” He grabs the scientist’s wrist and pulls him into a hug. Lips hidden behind the mask, but still close to the Autobot’s audio receptors, he whispers, “Stay here until we are gone, then you must return to your faction’s base. We will see each other again very soon, but until then I need you safe.”

Nodding against Sixshot’s chassis, Perceptor returns the hug with all his might. “All right, I understand. Just—“

“SIXSHOT! I know you’re there. Stop dawdling and haul yourself out of recharge,” yells the Decepticon Leader from outside. He has drifted closer to their cave and is dangerously close to discovering them both. With a last brush of his fingertips along Perceptor’s hands, Sixshot turns and rushes out of the cave’s mouth and into the forest.

When he is far enough away, the six changer launches himself into the air. “Here, Lord Megatron,” he announces as he spots the Decepticon hovering above the tree line. Sixshot is not surprised to see that a few others have followed in his leader’s wake. Starscream and his Trine are in the distance, apparently assisting in the search for their missing ally.

Sixshot flies closer to Megatron and once he is close enough, holds his position and bows his helm. “Forgive me sir. I was recovering from my heat cycle and had not realized how much time had passed. Is something wrong?”

The grey and red mech smirks at his warrior, wallowing in the seemingly respectful and subservient response. “It’s about time you answered my call. Plans have been laid to attack a large fuel shipment convoy in Russia, and we need you there in the very likely case that the Autobots decide to engage us.”

“Understood, sir. When will we be deploying?” With all his attention on his Lord, Sixshot does not notice the movements of the Seekers until it is too late.

“Megatron! Look what I’ve found sneaking through the underbrush,” Starscream cries as he pulls a struggling Perceptor from the fauna surrounding the still hidden entrance to their cave.

Sixshot struggles to keep his body language uncaring as he watches his Mate writhe in the too tight hold. ‘Slag it all! I told him to wait in the cave!’

The large form of Megatron flies down to meet his Second in Command at the canopy of the forest. “Ah, Perceptor! What are you doing skulking around like some common spy?”

The Autobot says nothing, yet his blue optics glare daggers at the bane of all peace loving creatures. “I think we’ll have to interrogate this one, Megatron,” Starscream says with a malicious grin.

Both Sixshot’s and Perceptor’s processors are running fervently as they scramble to think of a way out of a quickly deteriorating situation. As luck would have it, salvation came from below.

“Megatron! Starscream! Release Perceptor,” Optimus Prime yells from the forest floor. Hound, Beachcomber, and Warpath are on the ground with him and the fast approaching sound of a plane engine signals Powerglide’s inevitable approach. It appears that Perceptor’s rescue party has arrived. Sixshot’s keen senses pick up the presence of several more Autobot’s approaching unseen and knows that the situation could quickly go from bad to worse with little prompting.

The Decepticon leader is uncaring as he laughs at the red and blue mech. “Why would I want to do that Prime? If you want him back so bad, then he must have valuable information.” Unaware of the foolishness of his next move, Megatron roughly grabs Perceptor’s throat while thrusting his fusion cannon’s muzzle into his chassis. Starscream, who has luckily let go of the Autobot scientist just as Megatron grabs him and backed away, is close enough to see exactly what happens next.

The imminent danger that his Mate is in flips a switch in Sixshot and all he sees is a Threat to what is his. His thrusters flare as he dashes forward. He grabs the fusion cannon’s barrel, pushing and twisting it safely away from Perceptor, while his other hand grabs the wrist of the hand that is choking his Mate. Megatron’s scream startles everyone on the field and in the air when Sixshot pulls and rips the offending arm from its socket. Energon and sparking wires dance in the air as the Decepticon leader brings his crushed fusion cannon to bear. The pain of his other wound and the unexpected attack from an ally leaves Megatron to act upon instinct. He doesn’t realize the danger of what he is doing until the bent and twisted barrel causes the entire weapon to backfire. One arm in mangles and the other gone, Megatron quickly tries to retreat from his assailant.

The only thing that saves Megatron from continued mutilation at the hands of the feral six changer is the fading scream of Perceptor as he falls. The attack happened in mere astroseconds, but Perceptor is already dangerously close to the trees and the possibly fatal impact with the ground. Sixshot immediately dismisses the injured mech, transforms into his jet mode, and dives after his Mate.

He is quick, but he was never built for speed. Perceptor is too far and the ground too close. The two mech’s optics meet as their servos stretch towards one another. So focused on each other, they don’t notice Powerglide coming towards them at a perpendicular angle. The red plane scoops up a shocked Perceptor and swerves away to evade Sixshot’s powerful descent.

The Decepticon is torn between gratitude that his Mate has been saved from a painful deactivation and righteous rage that the Autobot flyer has dared to take Perceptor away from him. The six changer follows close behind the red plane as Powerglide heads towards the group of grounded Autobots. He lands behind their front line, careful to set Perceptor on his unsteady pedes.

Not a klik later, Sixshot lands before their united front, the earth shaking as his bulk lands heavily. He growls, lost in his beast mode’s instinctual drive to get to his mate, and the Autobot forces lift their weapons.

“Stop! Please do not shoot!” Perceptor yells as he pushes his way through the barricade of his allies’ frames. He nearly trips over his own pedes as he shoves past the last Autobot in his way and dodges the grab for his arm. “Do not shoot him!”

The red and teal Autobot throws himself in front of Sixshot, spreading his arms wide in an inadequate attempt to shield the much larger Cybertronian. “Perceptor!” Optimus cries, “What are you doing? Back away!”

“No! He is not a threat, I swear! He–” The scientist is cut short as a shot from above catches him high in the chassis, sending liquid fire through the circuitry to his left shoulder and arm as the force of the blow knocks him back a step. He collapses to his knees, hand shifting to cover the gaping wound.

Above the grounded mech’s helms, Skywarp’s weapon is still raised as he snarls down at Sixshot. “You’ll pay for what you did to Megatron!”

The stunned six changer stares at the damaged form of his Mate, before turning his renewed rage upon the foolish seeker. Stepping back from Perceptor, he quickly transforms into his tank mode and takes aim at Skywarp. The purple and black jet has just enough time to realize what a horrible lapse in judgment he has made before his right wing is blown to pieces by the pale mech. An energon curdling scream erupts from the Decepticon’s vocoder as the overwhelming pain of his sensitive wing simply being gone hits him. He loses control of his mid-air stability and veers sharply to the side before spiraling out of control before crashing into the tree line.

With the threat effectively nullified, Sixshot turns back to the prone form of his Mate. Falling to his knees, he leans over the red and teal mech. His hands hover over the damage, but he does not have the knowledge to heal such a grave injury. The scientist’s optics are still online, but his frame has started to violently shiver from the pain and constant sparking of damaged wiring. “Y-you are quite the –ah – avenger today, Sixshot,” Perceptor manages to whisper past his stuttering intakes.

“Perceptor, you must stay online. You cannot deactivate,” the large mech orders completely ignoring the cautiously approaching Autobot leader and their CMO. Instead Sixshot bends his helm so that his forehead rests gently upon his Mate’s. The move brings their chassis’ closer and they both feel it as their sparks resonate from the close proximity. Battling pain and stasis lock, Perceptor doesn’t take note of the tiny echoes that pulse along with their bonded sparks, but Sixshot does. His optics brighten in surprise and awe as he settles a careful servo on the smooth curve of his Mate’s lower chassis.

His brief moment of dazed wonder is broken as the red and white medic steps too close to his injured Mate. His optics raise to meet the steady blue gaze of the Autobot while he growls and flares his armor. Sixshot’s protective instincts are still in control of his actions, and Ratchet has seen and studied enough in his lifetime to recognize this for what it is.

Over their comm. link, the Autobot medic warns Optimus back while he holds his ground and slowly spreads his arms to show that he means no harm. Quietly and calmly, he speaks, “Please let me tend his wounds. If I don’t patch him up, there’s a very good chance that he’ll bleed out.”

With a wary optic still on the CMO, Sixshot weighs his options. Perceptor must be repaired, there was no argument in that regard, but he could not allow the smaller mech out of his sight, especially now that he was so vulnerable. His plating settled more comfortably around his frame and he meets the pale, pain filled optics of his Mate. “You may approach Autobot,” he says as he takes hold of Perceptor’s still functioning hand.

The scientist manages a smile past the pained grimace. “It will be all right Sixshot. They will help me and we can all work something out.” His optics swivel over to Ratchet’s face as the red and white mech kneels by his damaged side. “Hello Ratchet.”

“Hey Percy. You’ve certainly caused quite an uproar,” he said as he began clamping the torn energon and fuel lines without waiting for the pain dampeners to take full effect. “We’re gonna have a Pit of a time explaining your Mate to the crew.”

Struggling to stay lucid through the pain and dampener induced fog, Perceptor latched on to the feeling of surprise. “You know?”

The medic twists something inside the open wound but the scientist feels none of it. He’s fading fast and the words Ratchet mutters next are nearly lost to him. “‘Course I know. Sixshot’s not the first beast mode I’ve met that’s found his Mate, though it is rare. As soon as I saw him protecting you, I knew. You’re just lucky you aren’t–frag it all!” The red and white mech glares up at the six changer. “You couldn’t wait, could you? You two have only just paired up. What were you thinking?!”

Though his optics have started to fade as he slips deeper into medical stasis, Perceptor manages to force out a question. “What are you talking about?”

Ratchet’s attention falls back on his patient. “Don’t worry about it for now. Just let yourself go into stasis and we’ll start heading back to the Ark. These patches will hold for now, but I want to get you in the med bay as soon as possible.”

“‘Kay. Just promise not to shoot Sixshot. I like him,” the scientist mumbles, the dampeners and stress finally taking their toll.

Ratchet can’t quite keep the smile from his face. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Rest, Perceptor.”

The pale blue optics of the scientist find his Mate’s steady gaze. Sixshot runs a hand over Perceptor’s helm until the Autobot’s optics offline and his frame relaxes.

Ratchet finishes securing the wound before rising to his feet and transforming. “Pick him up gently and put him in the back.” Sixshot does so, transforms into his own vehicle mode, and follows closely behind the ambulance as they drive towards the group of wary Autobots. “I’ve informed Optimus Prime of the circumstances. He has given you permission to stay with Perceptor for now, but you will be kept under guard and will submit to having your weapons and transformation cog disarmed once he is stable. Understood?”

“Yes,” Sixshot says as he tries to subdue his rising hackles when Ironhide and Warpath fall in line beside him. As the convoy makes its way back to the Ark, the six changer distracts himself by focusing on the steady, if quiet, presence of his Mate over their bond and wonders how he’s going to break the news of the tiny new sparks he and Ratchet noticed to the scientist.


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter does not include them, but the overall story has STICKY and MECHPREG.

Starscream’s past experience with excessively violent mechs and the convenient distraction of the Autobot scientist’s cry is what saves him from sharing Megatron’s fate at Sixshot’s hands. He keeps his distance and holds his position, but as the six changer flies to the falling mech’s rescue, Starscream sees his chance. Megatron is helpless and injured, prime pickings for the opportunistic seeker.

“Don’t even think about it Starscream,” the Decepticon leader growls as he holds his mangled arm close to his chassis.

The Second in Command raises his weapon as his trademark smirk appears. “And what are you going to do? Bite me to death?”

“If I must.”

The two Decepticons hold each other’s stare, both unwilling to bow out and show any form of weakness. But Megatron knows that he is at a huge disadvantage, he is losing energon at an alarming rate and with one arm gone and the other mangled, his defensive options are severely limited. Nothing he can say or do can sway Starscream at this point, when there is no promise of immediate rebuttal. The seeker knows that and decides to take his chances. His finger flexes, squeezing the trigger of his pistol.

The seeker suddenly feels a bright burst of pain through his Trine’s bond, making him gasp and his thrusters stutter momentarily. “Starscream! Get over here now, Skywarp’s down!”

Thundercracker’s call causes the Second in Command to hesitate, but he cannot let this opportunity slip from his grasp. Gritting his denta, he readjusts his aim. A condescending smile spreads across Megatron’s face. They both know that as much as the Command Trine antagonizes one another, none of the three seekers will just sit idly by while one of their own is so heavily injured.

The grey and red mech has always been able to see the weaknesses in Starscream, and gladly takes advantage. “If you shoot me now, and you actually manage to offline me, what are you going to do next? The other Decepticons will not bow down to you without a fight. They will challenge you, as they have before. Can you really expect to hold your own against all of them when a third of your Trine is injured? In the case of such an occurrence, could you really trust the Constructicons to repair him? It would be so easy to just snip a main energon line and ‘oops, he didn’t make it through the night, so sorry’.”

“Starscream! I need you now!” Thundercracker yells again.

The red, white, and blue mech snarls at Megatron before letting a wordless cry of frustration escape his lips as he turns and flies towards his Trine mates. He crashes through the canopy, disregarding the slapping and scratching undergrowth. His thrusters scorch the earth as he lands beside the other two seekers, Thundercracker trying to calm a panicking and nearly delirious Skywarp.

It doesn’t take him long to realize why the dark seeker is in such a traumatized state. One of his wings is completely gone, the stump ragged and still smoking. The edge of the horrific wound was cauterized by the very shot that took the wing, saving Skywarp from bleeding out, but the fact that such a sensitive and integral part of his frame is simple missing is sending the seeker into a mad panic.

The black and purple seeker is sitting on his aft in the dirt, supported by Thundercracker. The overly bright optics find Starscream’s. “Screamer, he…the glitch took my wing! I can’t fly! My systems are conflicting – saying my wing’s gone, but it’s still there. I can feel it! Hurts. Burns. Please don’t scrap me. I can still fight! Gah! It hurts…,” Skywarp curls in on himself, “Please make it stop hurting…TC…Screamer…”

The injured mech keeps rambling, his systems confused and panicked with alerts swarming his HUD and pain flooding his frame. Thundercracker looks to his young Trine mate then to their leader. “We have to get him back to base. The Autobots are distracted for now, but they saw where he fell. Some of the front liners may try to track him.”

Starscream nods as he crouches down in front of Skywarp. He takes hold of the dark face in both hands, lifting it until the young seeker meets his optics. “‘Warp, I’m going to override your systems and put you in a medical stasis lock. That way it will be like you’re recharging until you’re all fixed up. Okay?”

The injured mech is still coherent enough to shakily nod his assent. “Just don’t let those Constructicons dismantle me for spare parts,” he says, eerily reminding Starscream of Megatron’s earlier threat.

As the Second in Command proceeds to plug into one of Skywarp’s medical ports, Thundercracker responds, “Don’t worry. We’ll have you flying again in no time.” Then with a teasing tone, he adds, “Maybe we’ll have them fix your decision making protocols while they’re at it.”

The dark seeker’s optics are already starting to dim as the stasis lock begins to slowly put his systems into stand by mode one by one, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to swat at Thundercracker’s head. “Shuddup. Stupid fragger was tryin’ to kill Megatron…had to…show him…” Whatever words of revenge Skywarp may have promised fade into oblivion as the stasis lock finally settles into place. The seeker’s frame relaxes into Thundercracker’s waiting arms where he is then easily maneuvered into a relatively comfortable carrying hold.

A weary sigh escapes Starscream as he watches Thundercracker launch into the air and make a bee line for the Nemesis. He is sorely tempted to follow and conveniently ‘forget’ about their injured leader. He hadn’t seemed that bad off when they had parted ways.

Knowing that excuse wouldn’t fly when Megatron inevitably showed up back at the base, Starscream launches back in the air and circles until he finds where the grey mech had landed after they had parted ways. Megatron is leaning against a tree as he uses his denta to finish tying off a makeshift tourniquet around a major fuel line in his shoulder joint. Starscream refuses to acknowledge the skill that is necessary to perform such a field repair without the use of one’s hands.

Starscream lands before his leader and makes a show of bowing from the waist. “Are you fit for flight, my lord?”

Megatron ignores the seeker until he is certain that the tie will hold. He pushes himself from the tree and without acknowledging his Second, leaps into the air. His flight path is unsteady, but true as he flies towards their base. Starscream transforms into his alt mode and follows close behind. They just manage to reach the shore line when the grey mech starts to list to the side.

Starscream makes sure that his exasperated sigh is loud enough to be heard over the wind and waves as he eases up beside the larger mech. He transforms back into his root mode before nudging Megatron back in the right direction. “I’m not going to catch you if you pass out.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” the grey mech growls. Megatron pushes past the pain and energon loss by focusing on his anger. The six-changer had deserted the Decepticons for something as worthless as an Autobot!

As the towering entrance to their base emerges from the raging sea below them, Megatron swears to himself that Sixshot will pay dearly for his betrayal, starting with that precious little scientist of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - Skywarp is not stupid, he’s just in pain and a bit of shock. Megatron and Starscream have a very complicated relationship and I don’t think I portrayed/hinted at it very well. I could spend an entire story just focusing on them, but that's for another time and place.


End file.
